Daoud

“ He loves you more when you are kind to a slave or to a woman or to one of the unfortunate, like a cripple or an unbeliever."
"Daoud is both a slave and unbeliever," said Gamal ibn Nasir with a faint sneer. "Must I be kind to him?" Daoud stared at Gamal, burning with hatred, all the more because what he said was true. ”

“ Daoud sensed that d'Ucello meant what he had just said as a sort of challenge.
"All I know is that for my part I have very little power in this city, Signore," Daoud said with a smile. "I depend altogether on those who have befriended me." That was the way David of Trebizond should respond. Not very frightened, because not guilty of anything. Humble, ingratiating, but retaining some scrap of dignity. ”

“ By the age of eleven Daoud had already known cruelty and evil at the hands of the Turks who had captured him, kindness with Baibars, and goodness with Sheikh Saadi. The Sufi sheikh had never made any claim, but Daoud had no doubt that he often walked and talked with God.
"Secretly and openly are we to give," the old man was saying. "God has been generous to us, and we must be generous in turn. When you are kind to a bird or a donkey, or even to an unclean animal like a pig or a dog, He loves you for it. ”

“ With a glow of pleasure he saw that Daoud had kept the Sons of the Falcon intact. There was their green banner with its white inscription. There were their turbans, red dots forming a line across the valley.
A warm feeling swept over him as he made out Daoud's figure in the center of the line. Never had he met a man he admired more, not even Manfred. He caught himself praying that Daoud would live through the battle and be victorious.
He had seen the Sons of the Falcon attack earlier today and check the first French charge with their volleys of arrows. ”

“ Daoud's arms and legs felt as if he were pushing them through water, but he knew that if he began to fight again he would forget this weariness. The worst of what he felt was the terrible ache of grief in his chest, grief for Manfred, for threatened Islam, for Sophia.
"Look at him, look at his garb," said de Verceuil. "A Saracen with the face of a Frank. If he surrenders, he should be burned as an apostate."
"You must be blind indeed, Cardinal," said de Gobignon, "if you do not see who this is." He turned to Daoud with a grave face. "You are David of Trebizond."
"I am," said Daoud. ”

“ Daoud had ordered the ring to be a yard wide and the distance from horseman to target fifty feet. It was easier than it looked for men who had practiced for months, but the rapidity of it made a beautiful spectacle. Daoud's eye caught a few misses, but he doubted that Manfred noticed.
"Like falcons, swift and fierce and sure," said Manfred. "But a bird is just bone and muscle and feathers, Daoud. These men are lightly armed and armored compared to Christian soldiers. These two hundred of yours could never stop a charge of Frankish knights." ”

“ To wage war is a holy obligation. But have a care that you kill, not with a small soul, but with a great soul.
This had been a necessary murder, Daoud thought. This young Frank had to die that Islam might be saved from infidel hordes of East and West. But, looking into his heart, Daoud knew that he had, indeed, killed with a small soul. He had been forced to kill de Gobignon's man, but he had also wanted to, and he had felt unworthy triumph over Simon de Gobignon. ”

“ To send a lovely woman to the bed of a spoiled young nobleman? To incite a poor fool, maddened by God, into getting himself tortured to death? Daoud wished he could fight openly—draw his sword and challenge de Gobignon. ”

“ D'Ucello sighed like a chess player whose opponent had escaped check, and went back to his seat in the window recess. Daoud saw the flickering glow of heat lightning through the thick leaded-glass window behind the podesta.
"I dislike intensely being made to waste time," said d'Ucello, drumming his fingers on his knee. "Listen carefully: Every time you force me to tell you something we both already know, I will prolong your suffering another hour."
Daoud allowed a note of fear to creep into his voice. "Suffering? I beg you, Signore, believe me. ”

“ He whirled it in great circles around his head, and Daoud heard it hissing even over the cheers of the crowd. He swung the flame between his legs and leapt over it. He threw it high in the air, the torch spinning under the thick gray clouds that hung low over Orvieto. Erculio neatly caught it when it came down. For a man so badly deformed, his agility was eerie.
Erculio turned toward the cathedral, holding up the torch. Daoud followed the dwarf's gaze and saw d'Ucello, the podesta, his face a white mask, give a wave of assent. ”

“ Daoud was surprised. He had often seen Ugolini frightened, but now fear seemed to have given him sudden strength. The men guarding the door stepped aside. The cardinal's servants held the door for him, and in a moment they were in the narrow street running along the north side of the cathedral, where they joined a crowd of weeping, shouting people who had managed to break loose from the piazza. There were splashes of blood, Daoud saw, on the tunics of many men and the dresses of many women. Ugolini's servants formed a wedge around him, and in stunned silence they walked back to his mansion. ”

“ Friar Mathieu said, "I heard what you told Simon about your past. You were baptized a Christian, Daoud. In God's eyes you are still a Christian. You must confess that you have sinned, and you must renounce Islam before you die, or you will not be saved. Your Christian mother and father are waiting for you in heaven. Come, I can give you absolution."
Daoud shook his head, smiling. How kind this man was, but how sadly misguided.
"Saved? Of course I am saved. When a warrior dies fighting in defense of the faith, God welcomes him with open arms into paradise. I do ask your blessing. ”

“ Daoud slung his bow across his back and drew his long, curving saif from the scabbard. The noonday sun flashed on it as he held it high. His men roamed and brandished their own swords.
The band had caught up with them, and the trumpets and hautboys screamed death to the enemy while the kettledrums rumbled.
There was nothing left to protect Charles d'Anjou now. There was not even time for the French leader to run. He seemed to know it. He had his sword out and he held up a white shield with a red cross.
Urging the Arabian on, shouting the name of God, Daoud raced toward triumph.... ”

“ Praying in the dusk reminded Daoud that he was alone. What would it be like now in El Kahira, the Guarded One? He would be praying with hundreds of fellow Muslimin, standing shoulder to shoulder, all equal before God, in the Gray Mosque, all listening to the call of the blind muezzins from the minarets—"Come to the house of praise. God is Almighty. There is no god but God."—all facing the Prophet's birthplace together in holy submission. Daoud's prayer might be the only one going up to God tonight from anywhere near Rome. ”

“ Seeing Manfred at work, Daoud felt a powerfully protective impulse toward him. Manfred was not his king, but he had become a worthy ally, and Daoud was prepared to fight Manfred's enemies. To die, if need be, fighting them.
"An old friend of yours wants to greet you, David," said Manfred, his bright smile flashing.
Daoud saw no one. In a candlelit alcove behind Manfred hung a painting of a red-bearded man in mail armor partly covered by a black and gold surcoat. ”

“ The moment of paralysis passed, and instead of killing Friar Mathieu, he thrust him aside, to fall from the banisterless stairs.
As he lies in bed the following morning in Ugolini's mansion, Daoud forces himself to think. He has extended himself to the limit of his powers and failed, but he must try again. He has to find a new plan, lest his faith and his people, his whole world, meet annihilation.
In a room near Daoud's, Sophia Karaiannides kneels before an icon of Saint Simon Stylites that she herself painted. She is thankful that Daoud escaped alive from the Monaldeschi palace. ”

“ Daoud, relieved, watched the round face glow as the Dominican seemed to relish the possibilities. It would never have done to admit it to Ugolini, but Daoud was not without fear. He realized that a slip might lead to his arrest and torture, the end of his mission, and, finally, death. His head had begun to ache from the effort of posing and answering all questions with care.
But now he sensed a way of reaching d'Aquino. More than anything else, the man would want books—books that would help him [214] write more books of his own. ”

“ He shows me that he is not afraid to turn his back, Daoud thought, picking up his pack and following Celino. The Hall of Mars, he remembered, was an indoor exercise hall for Manfred's troops. [18] They climbed stairs and walked through rooms in which Muslim soldiers were cleaning and polishing helmets, coats of mail, and weapons. In one room, men were painting shields. All the shields were yellow and bore the black two-headed eagle of the Hohenstaufens.
Daoud followed Lorenzo into a very large, bare room with a floor of polished hardwood. ”

“ You would not want to give your friends away. If you break, I will see to it that you die before you might speak."
"I will not break," said Daoud. "And when it is all over, and d'Ucello has killed me, he will at last come to believe that I was telling the truth. Because he believes that no one can hold out against torture to the very end. ”

“ Daoud was amazed to see that he actually seemed to be laughing at what Qutuz had said.
He still feels the excitement of the battle, Daoud thought. And by walking and talking as he does, he keeps at bay his grief at the loss of his army. His words are as much for himself as for the sultan and the emirs.
"Defeat?" said Baibars, speaking Ket Bogha's words. "Oh, Sultan, do not play the fool by claiming this skirmish as a victory. You rashly chose to overrun this handful of men, but the harm you have done to Hulagu Khan is that which a gnat does to an elephant. You have not hurt him. ”

“ His second in command rode to his side, white teeth shining in his thick black beard.
Daoud pointed up the valley. "Do you see that red and black [294] banner and that group of knights under it? Do you see a gold crown shining on a helmet? That is Charles d'Anjou, he who would steal our lord Manfred's throne."
"I see him, Emir Daoud. May God send him to the fire whose fuel is men and stones."
"May we be permitted to help God send Charles d'Anjou to that fire. There is nothing between him and us but men fighting one another and a line of foot soldiers we can sweep away with our arrows." ”

“ Daoud's anger was deep and weary, at himself for failing and at the fate that had destroyed his hopes today. This morning, he thought, he had imagined himself feeling like Baibars at the Well of Goliath. Now he knew how Ket Bogha must have felt.
Why does God test us so heavily?
He looked for the green-plumed helmet he had seen from a distance, telling him Manfred was here. There it was, in the midst of a ring of knights with tattered cloaks and surcoats—Manfred's young poets and musicians. It made Daoud's heavy heart feel a little lighter to see that they had stuck by their king. ”

“ Baibars's face was coated with gray dust. His gold khalat was streaked with blood, and none of it, Daoud was sure, was his. An angel must be riding on his shoulder.
With another wave of his saif Baibars charged into the mass of Tartars. Howling in an ecstasy of fury, the rest of the Mamelukes rushed after him.
Daoud reached over his shoulder and pulled his curving, double-edged saif from its leather-covered scabbard. He tried to ride near Baibars, but a wall of Tartars rose up between them. While he fought for his own life, Daoud could only pray that God would protect Baibars. ”

“ What would make those men leave Celino alone long enough to give him a chance to escape? Standing outside the doorway with the boy, Daoud's eyes searched the courtyard again as his mind tried to fit what he saw into a plan.
Daoud looked up at the lanterns again. Fire was sure to take men's minds off a fight. ”

“ Daoud scaled the disk at the candle that rested in the sconce at the door to the pantry. It sliced through the candle's tip, just below the wick. The flame went out, plunging the cellar into total darkness. The disk rang against the stone wall, then clanged to the floor. Daoud's trained hearing registered the place where it fell. The Armenian's bolt whistled past him and hit the wall with a sharp crack.
Voices from inside the spice pantry shouted questions. That must be the two Armenians who had first gone in there with the Tartars. ”

“ Daoud had once seen a slave transfixed by a wild cast of the rumh. It hurt to remember his screams and thrashings.
"Wound a slave and you will be beaten," he said. "Kill a slave, and you go without water for three days. In this desert that is a death sentence."
The boy whistled and shrugged. "Hard punishments for us, but not much comfort to the slaves, I'd say."
"It comforts them to know we have reason to be careful," Daoud answered.
After a moment, the boy smiled hesitantly and said, "I am Nicetas. From Trebizond. Where are you from?"
Daoud rubbed his pony's neck to settle it down. ”

“ Daoud glanced at Lorenzo, who nodded encouragingly.
Daoud leaned forward, pressing both hands on the table. "There! You yourself have said the very thing I have been trying to tell you. Last night was just one incident. It was not enough to move Fra Tomasso or the cardinals or the pope. We must do more. You can accomplish everything we want by persuasion and cunning and subterfuge. If you do, I will never have to put my hand to my dagger, and you will have nothing to fear." He shook his open hand at Ugolini. "Take the lead yourself." ”